


Mirrored Kirks

by AlyssiaInWonderland



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: D/s, Light BDSM, M/M, Mirror Kirk is a flirty bastard, Mirror Universe, Teasing, i wrote a thing, like its more teasing the option of BDSM than actual BDSM, spock is adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-11-28 21:03:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11426142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssiaInWonderland/pseuds/AlyssiaInWonderland
Summary: The Enterprise's transporters malfunction, yet again, and Spock ends up in the Mirror 'verse with the decidedly flirty and dangerously attractive Mirror Kirk.He is in love with his own Captain, who seems unattainable. His controls might not last long enough to see him through until the transporters are fixed back on his own ship, especially when Mirror Kirk seems content to push them.Meanwhile, Jim has to deal with Mirror Spock, and find a way to fix the transporters.When the universes are set right and Spock and Jim are together again, how will they handle the change in dynamic wrought by the visits of their counterparts?





	1. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock ends up in the Mirror!verse due to a transporter malfunction, and he meets Mirror!Kirk.
> 
> Or, Mirror!Kirk actually just kind of wants to make Spock and Jim get together (finally)
> 
> Or, Mirror!Kirk is a flirty bastard and made me write smut...

Spock could tell immediately that something was wrong. For one thing, the usual background emotions of general contentment and family were gone. For another, he would recognise his Captain anywhere, and the Captain Kirk facing him was not his.

“What the hell happened to your beard?” Kirk frowned at the Spock in front of him. No beard, his stance not nearly predatory enough. “What have you done with my Spock?” he drew his phaser, preparing to point it at the strange version of this first officer.

“I believe I have been drawn into your universe, and your Spock has been drawn into my own, Captain. It must have been a transporter malfunction, again.” Spock controlled his voice so that he revealed no emotion, no hints at his frustration and distress at the scenario that was unfolding.

“I see. Guards, take this Spock into custody and lock him up in his rooms. He is potentially hostile. I will take no chances.” Kirk turned from Spock, as if he meant nothing, and Spock found himself being marched in no uncertain terms towards his rooms. Since he wouldn’t be remaining for long – merely until his Jim had the transporter fixed – he let himself be led inside, and locked in.

While his mirror counterpart was undeniably sadistic, and utterly different to Spock, some things were constant. The trappings of Vulcan meditation were easily located in his counterpart’s eerily familiar rooms, and Spock elected to pass the time clearing his mind. He did not permit himself to express his frustration, but he was unable to reach the correct level of concentration. His mind insisted on supplying him with images of his corrupted Captain. His uniform in this world exposed his strong, tanned arms, littered with scars, and he moved like a hunter. Where his Jim was more puppyish bounding and enthusiasm, this Jim was a wolf, harsh and wild and undeniably captivating. Spock pulled his mind from its reverie, and decided he would call his own Captain ‘Jim’, and this mirrored version ‘Kirk’, to try and reduce potential confusion. As he reached this conclusion, he heard steps approaching, and he fluttered his eyes shut, thinking it logical to at least appear to be meditating.

 

Kirk opened the door to Spock’s room, not bothering to knock. At the sight of the meditating Vulcan, he almost laughed aloud. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it and considering the sight lazily.

“I see some things never change. You might be the shaven, weak version of my Spock, but at least you are still a Vulcan.” Kirk commented, the antagonism combining with the possessiveness in his words easily.

“I assure you, I am not weak, Kirk. I could take down any human with ease.” Spock spoke before he let his eyes open, and when he did he found his gaze immediately fixating on Kirk. The man wore his arrogance like a second skin, one that he flaunted as much as he flaunted his body.

“I’m not any human, Mr. Spock.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Was that a compliment? To me? The vile counterpart to your…precious little Captain?”

Spock said nothing in response, recognising the words for that bait that they were. He silently cursed his decision to open his eyes; it would be easier to maintain an unaffected stature if his eyes were not following Kirk’s movements constantly. Kirk noticed his straying gaze, and smiled, almost viciously.

“No defence for your Jim? Too busy checking me out? Well I have to say, Spock, it’s good to know that some things are constant. Your infuriating meditation, and your absolute inability to avoid falling in love with me.” Kirk sat down on Spock’s bed, leaning back lazily on his arms, smug amusement sprawled across his features.

“I am merely not rising to your childishly transparent bait, Kirk.” Spock clamped his mouth shut again, suppressing a flicker of frustration at his inability to curb his response.

Kirk sat up, almost pouncing forwards so he was crouched by Spock’s cross-legged form. He leaned in, until his face was so close to Spock’s lips that he could almost taste the warmth of his human body.

“Is that so?” Kirk whispered, crooning the words into the tiny gap between them. His head tilted, his eyes watching Spock’s pupils involuntarily dilate, a light green flush pervade his cheeks.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re trying to keep control.”

Kirk closed the distance between them, pressing a sharp kiss to Spock’s lips, biting his lower lip harshly enough to pull a small, delicious gasp from Spock before he drew back. Kirk walked away, the ease of manipulation and sexual power he seemed to have over this Spock rushing through him like a drug.

“See you later, precious. I’m due at the gym.” Kirk paused at the door for a moment, his eyes flicking across Spock’s body. “I’ll come back when I’m all pumped up for you.” He winked, and locked the door behind him.

Spock could do nothing but blink at the door, stunned by Kirk’s actions and more so by his response to them. After a moment to process what had happened, he surged to his feet, determined to find a way out of his room before Kirk returned. He ruthlessly ignored the lingering throb of the teeth that had grazed his lips, and the images crowding his mind, of the mirrored Jim, of his corded arms and strong fingers, and his lips that quirked in a smile that erred on just the right side of dangerous. Folding away his thoughts for later meditation, he took a deep breath, and willed himself to consider what locking codes his counterpart would have placed on his room. Of course, a truly random code would have been the most obvious choice, but Spock saw no harm in checking first to see if illogic had coloured his counterpart’s decisions.

He first tried his own combination – his mother’s birthday, and one of the few illogical things he allowed himself, as an homage to a human tradition his mother had told him of. When this did not work, he frowned, and tried that of Sarek, and himself. He tried several other sets of numbers, to no success, and he sat down, frustrated, at his desk. His hand brushed a button on the PADD lying there, and his counterpart’s private log sprang up. He tried to tap it aside, but in one of the irritating and smaller differences, this simply made the log begin to play. He moved to shut it off, but reconsidered. Perhaps it would help gather data on what the door code might be. He settled back in the chair to watch.

 

_First Officer’s Log, Stardate 3346, entry 857._

_“The Captain expressed a great deal of anger at the transporter problems that have begun. I believe he is concerned that the malfunctions will lead to another scenario involving the trade-off between our Universe and another. While it is most illogical to fear that which may not occur, I find that I -“_

_Spock broke off, turning to the side and moving to the left of the camera. Kirk stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame in a way that cast his profile to great advantage._

_“Captain, it is not yet time for our scheduled meeting.”_

_“What can I say, Spock? I decided to turn up early.” Kirk grinned, and moved into the room, closing the door behind him and locking it securely. “You aren’t going to make me wait, are you?”_

_Kirk’s gaze burned into Spock, and he practically prowled towards Spock as he sat in his rotating chair. Kirk leaned forwards, placing his hands on each arm, trapping the Vulcan. Spock’s eyes were fixed on his Captain, who was now leaning over him, head tilted down as Spock’s tilted up._

_“I would not do such a thing, Sir. It would be most inadvisable.” Spock’s voice contained a touch of humour as he spoke, though his words seemed to be in earnest._

_“Indeed, Mr Spock.”_

_Kirk smiled in response, leaning closer and moving one hand slowly up Spock’s arm, trailing up onto his neck where it paused, briefly, to lightly wrap over his throat. Spock’s eyes fluttered shut, and his head tilted back a little more, as if to invite access, though he did not make a sound. Kirk’s hand continued, his slight smirk at the response only compounded when Spock tried to press towards him. Kirk captured Spock’s dark hair in his hand, using it as leverage to keep Spock’s neck exposed._

_“Have you been a good First Officer for me?”_

_Kirk moved so he straddled Spock’s lap in the chair, leaning in to press his face to Spock’s neck, breathing in and brushing his lips along the sensitive skin, skin that flushed green under his attention. Spock’s body was taut, his breathing speed increased, and Kirk’s smile was satisfied at this. He licked a hot stripe up Spock’s neck, making his breathing hitch._

_“I asked you a question, Mr Spock. Have you been good for me?”_

_Kirk pressed a kiss to the exposed skin._

_“All,”_

_Kirk kissed his neck again, this time biting down a little and dragging his teeth over the skin, making Spock’s breath hitch helplessly once more. Kirk could not restrain a small grin at the sound._

_“Day?” he finished._

_Spock’s eyes blinked open, glazed, but registering the question, and perhaps protesting against the lack of sensation._

_“Yes, Sir.”_

_“Good boy.” Kirk crooned, tilting Spock’s head to have easy access to his left ear, nibbling and licking at it as his free hand pressed Spock’s chest into the chair. Spock’s face was now turned to the camera, and his eyes were half-closed in pleasure. He seemed content to simply relax into Kirk’s control, giving in easily to the teasing and the pleasure of Kirk’s ministrations, that left a bruised green trail across his neck._

_“I think you have earned a reward for your behaviour today. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you reassigned the transporter crews and put them in the agonisers for me before I could even ask.”_

_Kirk licked up Spock’s neck again, before grasping Spock’s hair with both hands._

_“What do you think, Spock? Do you deserve a reward?”_

_Before he could reply further than opening his mouth, Kirk dragged him into a kiss, full on the lips and almost vicious in intensity, biting and licking at his bottom lip until it drew breathy low gasps from Spock that make Kirk smile into the kiss. He pulled away, letting his right hand drift down Spock’s chest brushing his nipples and eliciting another low gasp._

_“Answer me.”_

_Spock seemed to not mind the contradiction of the demand and Kirk’s actions. His eyes were slightly unfocussed, his breathing rapid, lips swollen and his neck littered with love-bites._

_“I think that my status of deserving is up to you, Captain.”_

_Spock’s voice was deep and rough, but still coherent and logical._

_“Well done.”_

_Kirk grinned, sitting up straighter and rolling his hips once. Spock’s hands flew to Kirk’s back, wrapping around and latching onto his shoulder blades, tightening on Kirk’s golden uniform shirt. Kirk seemed spurred on by the reaction, rolling their hips together again. Spock’s hands twitched, and he emitted a soft groan that he swiftly suppressed._

_“That’s it, take your time. I’ll take your control, t’hy’la. You are mine now, and you can and will lose that perfect Vulcan control of yours when we are alone.”_

_Kirk whispered the words tenderly, belying the sharp, biting kiss that went with them. He rolled his hips again, and again, and Spock let out a sharp moan, letting the sound continue and echo in the room._

_“There we go. Such a good boy…”_

_Kirk reached down with one hand, opening Spock’s trousers and reaching in to stroke his cock, his other hand resting lightly over Spock’s throat, not tight enough to constrict, but enough to let him know that it could happen. The power-play span them both higher, and as Kirk gently stroked him, Spock’s control gave, his hands scratching down Kirk’s back and ripping the uniform shirt. Spock grasped for his shoulders again and pressed in with his nails, hard enough to draw blood. The pain only made Kirk’s smile more victorious and vicious, and he leaned in to bite a kiss onto Spock’s open, moaning lips._

_Spock’s body flushed slowly, green blood rising to his neck, upper chest and cheeks, and Kirk pulled back to watch the show. Tension built up in Spock’s body, coiling like a spring until he came, with sharp, harsh cries, as his hands ripped shallow bloody trails across Kirk’s back. Kirk kept stroking him until Spock was relaxed boneless in the chair, all his usual composure gone. He raised the hand that had stroked him off to his mouth, licking off the stray come, before pressing a gentler kiss to Spock’s lips._

_“How are you doing, lover?” he asked, his voice filled with smug amusement._

_“Like you don’t know.” Spock managed to sound both satiated and accusatory, his arms lazily wrapping around Kirk and pulling him down for another, softer kiss._

_“Oh, I know.” Kirk grinned into Spock’s lips. “I just like to hear you say it. In your post-orgasm voice.”_

_“Alright, Sir. The orgasm was most…” Spock paused, considering. “Satisfactory.” He purred the word, nuzzling forwards to press kisses into the crook of Kirk’s neck._

_“Damn right it was, Commander.” Kirk cast his gaze across the room, looking over to the desk and spotting the PADD, making eye contact with the camera for a moment. “What did I interrupt?”_

_“I was recording my log.” Spock was too lazy and satisfied to hide the amusement in his voice. “In fact, I believe it still is.”_

_“Hmm.” Kirk considered this, looking over at it once more and smiling. “Send me the recording, will you?”_

_“Of course, Captain.”_

_Kirk leaned in and a hand covered the camera._

 

Spock found himself staring at the black screen at the end of the recording, unable to look away and trapped in a state of extreme arousal. He felt strangely like he had broken a boundary, and yet it had been a simple accident, and he wasn’t certain if it even counted as a violation of privacy if one of the people involved was in fact another version of himself. He took a deep breath, attempting to wrangle his thoughts into submission so he could concentrate on his current situation. He recalled the scenario, played out in the log in graphic flashes that did nothing to calm his mind or his arousal.

He had to get out of here. Desperately, he leapt from the seat he was in – the same seat that had been in the recording. He did not believe in inspiration or gut instinct, but he input the date he had met Jim into the lock. The door clicked smoothly open.

“I wondered when you’d try again.” Kirk winked at him, standing by the door in nothing but a towel, his body still damp from a shower. “Good work on figuring it out. I thought you would spend all your time wasting it on systematic progression though random numbers.”

“I…” Spock found he could not complete his sentence. Kirk’s body was scarred, well-toned, and distractingly dripping with water. Combined with the images in his head from the recording, it was enough to make him only notice that he had been locked back in the room with Kirk right by him when it was too late to make a run for it. He tried not to show his frustration, but Kirk’s smile told him he had likely not succeeded.

“Well, I went to the gym.” Kirk commented. “How did you pass your time?”

Spock’s eyes flickered briefly towards the desk, and Kirk moved over to it, clearly enjoying the opportunity to parade his infuriatingly attractive body past him. He tapped the screen and noticed the log entry. Kirk turned to him, looking him up and down in a calculating way that should not have made Spock even more aroused.

“Oh…you watched this, didn’t you. You can’t deny it.” Kirk added, as Spock began to shake his head. “I should have noticed immediately.”

“I did not intend –“ Spock wasn’t sure what he meant to say, what defence he wanted to give.

Kirk stalked forwards, and Spock backed away instinctively, until he hit the wall. Kirk kept going, until they were close enough to breathe each other’s air. His hands pressed against the wall, trapping Spock in an imitation of the recording. Spock couldn’t help the flush that pervaded his cheeks, or the increased breathing. Kirk looked him up and down, his eyes lingering on the bulge in his trousers, and he flushed more, the bite on his lip throbbing.

“Kirk, what are you doing? Let me go or I’ll-“

“Or you’ll, what, Spock? Do go on.” Kirk moved so that his breath landed on Spock’s neck.

Spock could feel the warm breath on his neck, scattering his already fragmented controls. He could feel his body becoming more tense, the lust rising to meet Kirk’s, urging him to meet him blow for blow, kiss for kiss. His left hand clenched in a fist, the hand shaking with effort to control himself. His breathing was quickening already, and Kirk hadn’t even so much as touched him yet.

He tried to speak, but as soon as he opened his mouth, Kirk crossed the small space between them, tracing his lips with his thumb, sliding his hand around to weave into his hair. Sounds became out of the question, the sensation of touch and wanting almost too much to bear. But Spock was not Vulcan for nothing. His mind had been built and trained to hang on to control in any and every situation.

So he dragged his mind’s attention from bodily sensations, focusing on the differences between Kirk and Jim. Kirk had a powerful pull, that was certain. A kind of magnetism, that both versions of his Captain shared, and had served each of them well but differently. In Kirk it was what drove his ability to manipulate those around him; in Jim it allowed him to gather everyone on the ship into his circle and let none feel left out of his thoughts. Jim’s smile was also different – sunnier, less tainted by the calculation that factored into Kirk’s use of it, and all the more seductive for it being unconscious of its effect. Fundamentally, his Jim was just that – his Jim. Strong and charismatic, yes, but also scrupulously moral and understanding, never pushing people further than they were comfortable and always ceding victory when necessary. Those were all small parts of what he loved about Jim, and those were things that Kirk could never hope to compete with.

There was a joy to be had in the tantalising option of brief attainment. But Kirk was not Jim, and he recalled a phrase he had used once, in the time of his pon farr. Having, is not always the same as wanting. He felt it applied quite perfectly here.

Kirk’s hand tugged at Spock’s hair, his breath teasing his neck, and the sensations still sent waves of arousal through his body. But he could look at Kirk now, truly look, and see all the differences between the man he loved and the man he couldn’t help but want. One was clearly attainable, and the other unassailable, but it made little difference. Kirk seemed to notice the change, pulling away and untwisting his hand from Spock’s hair.

“Well now,” he said with a grin that confused Spock. “That’s just fascinating.”

Spock restrained a peculiar urge to roll his eyes at the use of his favourite word – clearly, as ever, some things remained the same no matter the universe.

“We can play the game, alright.” Kirk continued, speaking his thoughts out loud and fixing Spock with a stare that seemed to penetrate right through his controls and into his very katra. “But, once the reality sets in, once I become attainable and not just almost possible…your focus shifts.”

“I don’t-“

“No, you can’t give me that denial. Apart from anything else, I know how to read my First Officer, Spock. You want me. But you don’t want to act on that, not when it means having a mirror image of your beloved Captain, in place of the man that you love.”

“Kirk, I-“

“I know how to read my lover’s face, Spock. I know how to read you. You’re in love with your Captain. And I can only beat that when I’m dangerously close to attainable. Once the gap closes,” Kirk reached out a hand, touching lightly to Spock’s psi-points and sparking a light frission of pleasure through his psyche. “The illusion is broken.”

Spock wanted to ask why Kirk was doing this, why the knowledge stopped him from continuing, but the faintest trace of a meld was all that was needed. Kirk was used to getting exactly what he wanted, and to caring only for his own preservation. And now, it seemed, that protection and fierce, harsh pride and ownership was also transferred to his lover, and by extension, his mirrored counterpart. A thought echoed through his head, and he was almost certain that the thought belonged to Kirk.

_In any universe, James T Kirk could never cause harm to you, Schn T’Gai Spock._

Spock opened his mouth to respond, to try and express the complicated array of emotions that this man never ceased to inspire within him, but instead he felt a tingling sensation that was nothing to do with arousal.

“I think a solution has been found, Captain.” He said, his tone several shades more open than he would have preferred.

Kirk nodded, and swiftly leaned in, giving Spock one last, biting, delicious kiss. Before pulling away properly, he whispered in Spock’s ear.

“If he’s anything like me, Spock, he loves you back.”

Spock fixed his surprised eyes on Kirk’s, unable to communicate the combination of confusion, desire and gratefulness before the world around him vanished, and faded back in as he was beamed back to his own ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is enjoyable! My first smut writing, so uh...yeah...XD ><


	2. Dark Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim attempts to deal with Mirror!Spock, and eventually Mirror!Spock and Mirror!Kirk are reunited.
> 
> Or, Mirror!Spock attempts to explain to Jim that Spock must like him, and when he gets back to the Mirror!verse he finds that his Captain has been doing much the same, but reflected ;)
> 
> Or, 'this got smutty really fast and I don't know how that happened, but it has plot and fluff and angst too I promise'

Jim knew something was wrong the moment the switch happened. Instead of Spock appearing on the planet below, he arrived back in the transporter room, with a beard, scars, and a strange uniform. For a moment he was convinced his friend had been somehow time-travelled, but then this Spock spoke. 

“Captain, I have for some reason materialised in the transporter room. Is this a test?”  
  
Spock’s gaze was sharp, colder than it had been for years, and he seemed as if he were coiled to pounce.  
  
“No, Spock. But I think you may be in the wrong ship.”  
  
“It would seem so.” Conceded the Vulcan, his eyes skittering around the transporter room, fixing on Jim’s arms and the long sleeves that hid the familiar tattoos and scars his Captain would have had. “If I recall, it is now known how to fix the transporter. I will await this eventuality.”  
  
“You’re not going to attack us or something?” Jim blinked. He had been sure that Spock would attempt something of the kind.  
  
“I have no wish to remain in this universe, Captain. This should not surprise you. My Captain must have informed you how very inferior this Enterprise is.”  
  
“Kirk to security, please take this Spock to his rooms. Scotty, to transporter room.” Jim looked up at Spock, untrustingly. “You will not leave your quarters, understand, Officer?”  
  
Spock did not reply in words, merely nodding and watching Jim sharply, as he watched him.

 

Jim kept his eyes fixed on this version of Spock, ostensibly to prevent anything from escalating, but also in part because he couldn’t help it. This was still Spock, but everything his own was not. He had not realised how much the Vulcan had softened in the company of the Enterprise, until he witnessed the alternative. He was somehow used to seeing Spock’s expressions as soft, even as his mannerisms were controlled and his reactions and wit felt sharp. This Spock seemed to only express mild impatience and anger – and though that could be simply the scenario they found themselves in, Jim was somehow convinced that it would take a great deal to break this Spock’s Vulcan façade.

He handed Spock over to the security team, and then turned to Scotty, to talk with him about the repairs to the transporter.

 

Spock allowed himself to be led until the corridor was empty. Then he turned and swiftly dispatched both security guards to a nerve grip, and continued on his journey. He attempted to enter his rooms and found the code changed. He frowned, restraining the ever-present urge to submit to his anger. He considered his counterpart. Softer, perhaps more tied to friends and family. He tried the birthday of Surak, his father, and finally his mother, at which the door slid open. He nodded once in satisfaction, entering and allowing the door to slide shut behind him. He located his meditation equipment, and elected to pass the time meditating while he could, to stoke his controls.

 

While he attempted to meditate, he found he was distracted by the presence and concept of his Captain’s counterpart. This version of him seemed so much less powerful – still larger than life, in his own way, but a far cry from the commanding, dangerous man he knew. The potential vulnerability of this Jim Kirk fascinated him. Somehow, this man captained an entire Star-ship, and did so without much need for agonisers or harsher discipline. It was intriguing to wonder just how he convinced anyone to concede to him.

 “Do all Spock’s end up meditating somehow?”

Spock looked up, to see the subject of his musings leaning against the door, watching him with open curiosity and perhaps a little interest. Spock raised his eyebrow.  
  
“We are both Vulcans.”  
  
Jim laughed, and to Spock the sound was almost a revelation. This Jim was so uninhibited, so free with his affection. His eyes were warm and laughing, and the amusement and good-natured humour somehow managed to add to his presence, filling the room with his energy, like the Sun filled its surroundings with bright warmth. This might not be his own Captain, who used his charisma like a sharpened and pointed weapon. But this man could certainly rule a room, it seemed, just by stepping into it. Spock could not help but find that, the ease of domination, even if unintentional, was surprisingly attractive. He allowed himself to look the man up and down with his eyes, from his messy hair to his regulation boots.  
  
“Of course.” Jim answered, feeling Spock’s eyes on him but deciding not to comment. He felt he was being assessed, and if he were going to watch over this Spock he needed to be in control, not overly curious about how platonic the once-over he was being given was. “Now, why is it that you came to your room, after you knocked out your guards? They weren’t baby-sitters Spock. They are important crew-members.”  
  
Despite his words, Jim’s eyes danced with amusement. He was, somehow, enjoying this scenario. When he analysed it, Jim knew that it was because despite the harshness, despite the fierce attitude this version of Spock displayed, the man had only put up a token resistance before obeying him. He couldn’t help the thrill that gave him, even if it was something that he clamped down on before he could analyse its root cause.

“They were unnecessary.” Spock responded. “What do you want from me?”

“Preferably, for you to not assault my crew. Do not do that again, Mr Spock, or I will be forced to take action.”  
  
“Oh?” Spock’s eyes snapped up to meet Jim’s at the threat. The warmth behind his eyes was gone, replaced by a flinty resolve that echoed his own Captain eerily. At the sight, he could feel himself strongly desiring to both spring up and claim this Jim as his own, and to submit to his will. He held his muscles in place intently, pressing his crossed legs into the mat and his palms onto his knees, tense and restrained, with barely a flicker of emotion across his face.

“I’m sorry, Spock, but that’s just how it is. I’m not going to put you in an agoniser, you can relax.” Jim relaxed his commanding tone, disconcerted by the response it had caused. His own Spock had seen such a tone before and hadn’t even flinched. Perhaps that attitude was associated with pain for this Spock. That idea troubled him more than he cared to admit. Despite the manifold differences evident, his instincts still told him to protect his First Officer, and it seemed that instinct did not discriminate against alternate universe versions.

“I am not afraid, Captain.” Spock responded, and on another man it would have sounded like he was snapping. His posture remained taut. The switch from gentle to commanding and back again, should not have affected him so greatly. But then a realisation hit him, and he decided that his curiosity – scientific of course – should win out. “Do you not recognise my symptoms?”  
  
“Symptoms? I can have Bones take a look at you, Spock, I’m not a medic.”  
  
“That is not what I meant to imply.” Spock narrowed his eyes, looking at Jim’s face searchingly. He stood, moving towards Jim, who had entered the room and shut the door at some point during the conversation. Jim changed stance in response, his eyes turning sharp again and his posture reverting to that of a man who would not be disobeyed. Spock stilled. Jim slowly relaxed once more. “Do you truly not take my meaning?” he asked, still distracted by the allure of the transformation and the contrasts his attitudes brought to light.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Spock.”  
  
“You must have noticed that I respond strongly to you. Even this version of myself must make it blindingly obvious. It is unlike you to be so oblivious of your charisma.”  
  
“What does that have to do with this?” Jim’s eyes flashed to sharp again, frustration bringing out that hidden steel as he stepped up to Spock, challengingly. “Explain yourself, that’s an order!”  
  
“Yes, Sir.” Spock let the words fall from his lips naturally, softer and more yielding than he allowed himself to be around anyone other than Jim Kirk. The tone seemed to affect Jim. His breathing quickened slightly, his pupils dilated, and the response seemed to feed the predator within him.  
  
“Well?” Jim demanded, feeling tangled within a thin web of confusion and an almost incendiary response to the near submissive tone to Spock’s voice. It made him shamefully aware of how attractive this version of Spock was. The dangerous, poised and lithe muscle, an intellect sharper than any he knew besides his own Spock. The idea of having power over Spock, even a different version, was heady.

 “I find you to be attractive, Jim. This is the case, in any universe, of that I am certain.” Spock attempted to not sound too gentle.

 Jim blinked at him for a moment, hurt flashing across his features before it was replaced with a grin and a soft laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

 “You have a better grasp of jokes than your counterpart, Spock. For a moment there, I thought you were actually serious.”  
  
“Vulcans do not lie, Jim.”  
  
“Don’t give me that.” Jim actually rolled his eyes, flickering to irritation and edging onto the steel. “I know perfectly well that you are half Vulcan, and you imply rather than lie.”  
  
“Perhaps I do so to others. But I would not lie about this.”

 “Forgive me if I do not take your word for it. You got a rise from me, now let’s move on. Chess? It will be a little while before the transporter is fixed.” Jim kept his tone light, but his expression betrayed how much the words had affected him.

 

Spock found himself disconcertingly concerned by the denial that this Jim was giving. He had honestly thought that they were indeed together, in both the universes – perhaps all. It was unlike him, however, to concede to an opinion with which he disagreed. And so he decided that he should take matters into his own hands, and press the issue.

 “Yes, Sir.” Spock responded in a similar tone, and observed Jim’s response, as his left hand twitched involuntarily. He moved to sit by the chess table, dragging his desk chair over to it and sitting ready, allowing himself a brief smirk at the thought of himself and his own captain just a day ago in that very chair’s counterpart.  
  
“What are you smirking at?” Jim laughed, slipping easily back into a vaguely teasing role. His tone would have brooked a response, even if Spock did not intend on seizing that opportunity.

“I do not think that you would believe me, Jim.” He responded serenely, reaching up and adjusting his uniform’s neckline, rolling his head and shoulders as if to stretch. The movements shifted the clothing, revealing the dark lines across his neck.  
  
Jim was silent, his eyes riveted to Spock’s neck even as he tried to set up a game. He dragged his gaze away, his pupils noticeably dilated, and his breathing rate increased by approximately thirty point four percent. Spock allowed himself a raised eyebrow, in an attempt to gain any form of response.

 

Jim huffed a laugh, which Spock counted as a victory.  
  
“Alright, I’ll bite. What happened to your neck?”

“You bit.” Spock responded, his lips curving into a small smile.

“I’m sorry?” Jim looked puzzled, though a smile grew on his face in response to the smile on Spock’s.

 “You – or rather, your counterpart – bit me. Several times.” Spock found that he could see part of the thrill that Kirk must get from subduing him; the power of shocking someone was quite satisfying, though he did not let the emotions show so soon after a smile.

 “I – why would I do that to you? Isn’t that painful?” Jim abandoned his attempts to avoid the subject of the relationship between this Spock and his counterpart. He was thoroughly distracted, and it seemed that Spock wanted it so in any case.  
  
“Yes, Jim. That is, after all, half the point.” Spock’s lips quirked into that almost-smile once more, and drank in the flashes of emotion that skittered across this Jim’s face.

Jim was wonderfully easy to read; shock and confusion were chased across his features by stark arousal, which was then immediately moderated into a studied casual interest.

 “I wouldn’t think you would enjoy something of that kind.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“You just didn’t seem the type to care for such activities. Surely it’s somewhat illogical?” Jim smiled, but he found that he was deeply invested in the response that Spock would give. He could feel the desire that he had kept for years now, coiled up and buried deep underneath duty and propriety. He kept himself controlled, standing and moving towards Spock, curiosity urging him closer – and perhaps a little of something else.

“I assure you, I very much enjoy such activities, Sir.” Spock abruptly reached forwards, grabbing for Jim’s arms.

 

Jim responded swiftly and instinctively, slamming Spock’s wrists to the arms of the chair and moving forwards so his full weight pinned them down. He was surprised to find that the Vulcan had let this happen, despite his superior strength. He knew that Spock could escape easily, especially now they were so close. Spock knew this too. And yet, his only response was to look up at Jim, lips slightly parted, cheeks blushing a gentle green as his breathing rate increased. Jim studied him carefully, his eyes taking on the look they did when he was calculating the results of an experiment, and this only seemed to increase Spock’s arousal.

 “You really do like this, don’t you?” Jim asked, slightly amazed.

 “Indeed.” Spock replied, his voice catching on the arousal and coming out low and breathy.  
  
They remained in that position for a few moments, Jim staring down at Spock with growing intensity. Spock could feel his instincts clamouring with joy at the sensation of being held down, and he had to actively concentrate to control the urge to tease, to test this Jim’s ability to hold him, to submit. He now had to admit that, despite this universe’s kinder, softer Jim, he was still every inch in control and dominant, even if the tone of the dynamic was different.

 

“What would you have me do, Captain?” Spock asked, tilting his head up a little more to display the trail of love bites, using everything he had to try and tease out further response. He received it in spades.  
  
“God, Spock…” Jim’s voice sounded rough, stippled with arousal and his attempt to control himself. Jim tore himself away, backing up to the armchair and gripping the backrest with one hand, holding the other in a fist behind his back. “Dammit.” He cursed, vehemently. His expression was no longer that of enjoyment, and Spock immediately sat up, composed and concerned.  
  
“Jim, are you alright?”  
  
“Am I alright? Spock, listen, I am beyond aroused. I am extremely attracted to you – my you, I mean – and everything about you just then hit approximately all of my buttons. I guess you could do that easily, since you’re with my counterpart. But I can’t just let myself have this. I couldn’t bear it!” Jim half-shouted the words, the hand behind his back reaching up to grip at his hair briefly in exasperation, and glad of the sound dampers in private quarters.  
  
“I understand; you would not wish to be disloyal to your Spock.” Spock realised, understanding of the situation dawning. He had been illogical to think that seduction would be the only way to force Jim’s hand in becoming involved with his own Spock. Perhaps he had even misinterpreted Jim’s reactions as ignorance when they had simply been to dissuade him.  
  
“No! Well, yes, but there isn’t anything to be disloyal to! My Spock does not think of me this way. I can’t have this with him. And I can’t let myself have it with you. If-“ Jim broke off, looking away. “If I had it once, I don’t think I could treat you as only a friend again. And that would be unfair to you – your counterpart, even.”  
  
“Jim,” Spock found himself filled with regret at his actions – something he rarely experienced. “I apologise for attempting to manipulate your affairs. I simply wished to show you that your Spock does indeed return your regard and desire, just as I do for my own Jim Kirk. I did not intend to cause you distress.”  
  
“It’s alright, Spock. It’s my fault, not yours.” Jim looked down.

 

Spock couldn’t help but feel responsible, as this Jim refused to meet his gaze, the charisma and joy seemingly sapped from him. In the past, he might have enjoyed defeating someone so thoroughly. As it was, he wanted to bring back the Sun. He instantly thought of a plan; if Jim believed him to be lying about his certainty of his counterpart’s regard, he could communicate in such a way as to make lying impossible. The trick would be manipulation the situation such that this could happen. 

Spock moved his feet, preparing himself, and lunged while Jim was looking down throwing himself at the human and shoving him harshly against a wall. Jim looked up, his eyes flashing with steel once more, as he wound a leg around Spock’s and shoved at his shoulders, pinning Spock against the wall and raising a hand to touch Spock’s meld-points, threatening to incapacitate him if he moved again.

Spock seized the chance, and reached through for a light meld, and pushed one thought through the dizzying swirls of arousal at Jim’s strength and fighting abilities.  
  
_There is no universe in which Schn T’Gai Spock does not wish to protect and love James Tiberius Kirk. This is certain. We are, have been, and always shall be t’hy’la._

Spock pulled himself from Jim’s mind, as Jim staggered back, eyes filled with confusion and arousal, transference at its most disorienting. Spock heard the communicator in the room chirp.

 

“Captain Kirk, I’ve fixed up the transporters. I’ve prepared a beam up from Spock’s quarters, whenever you’re ready, Sir.” Scotty’s voice broke the tension, and Spock moved to the beam-up point. Jim moved to the communicator a little shakily, and replied.  
  
“Activate transporter beam now, Scotty. Thank you.”  
  
Spock felt himself begin to dissolve. He spoke quickly.  
  
“You know that in a meld, you cannot lie.”  
  
  


**_Mirror Universe_ **

 

Spock felt himself reappear, in his own rooms, with his Captain, his Kirk, pressing him against a wall.  
  
“I see you also attempted to convince your visitor of the benefits of our relationship?” Spock inquired, letting himself relax against the wall and into Kirk’s control.  
  
Kirk’s hands snaked up to grip his wrists, pressing them against the wall and making Spock’s breath hitch.

 

“That I have, Mr. Spock.” Kirk grinned, deliciously wicked, and Spock knew that his already fragile controls would not hold out much longer against the directed force of his Captain’s charisma. “Did you have much success?” Kirk dipped his head to Spock’s neck, gently grazing his teeth across the old bruises and eliciting a sharp hiss from Spock.  
  
“I believe that I made him aware of the possibilities.” He managed, his hands clenching into fists and his arms tensing, pressing back against the wall.  
  
“As did I.” Kirk pulled away to press a kiss to Spock’s lips, licking into his mouth and biting at his bottom lip, dragging as much response from his lover as he could and drinking it in, revelling in their interaction. He paused, to observe the changes wrought with satisfaction. His Spock was now flushed green, lips swollen and breathing heavily. Kirk could feel his heartbeat, faster even than usual, in his abdomen. “It seems that doing so rather compromised your controls, Commander.”  
  
“I apologise, Sir.”  
  
“No need.” Kirk grinned, fixing Spock with his questioning gaze. “I’m surprised that my counterpart could gain any response at all. He hardly seems to be the dominant type.”  
  
“He was surprisingly adept at filling that role when sufficiently provoked, Captain.”

 

Kirk’s eyes flashed for a moment with rage and jealousy, and he slid a leg between Spock’s, which parted easily. Kirk pressed Spock against the wall, aligning their hips and feeling Spock’s arousal there, responding to his own. He grinned, rocking his hips to brush them together, hands moving up and ripping apart Spock’s uniform at the shoulder to expose skin, biting down hard and licking at the skin when he was done, marking a trail of green and moving further down, lengthening the tear until the shirt was utterly useless. He moved his hands to Spock’s hips, brushing his lips over Spock’s nipples and making his hips attempt to jerk up. Kirk’s hands held Spock’s hips steady, as he swirled his tongue over and around his areolae. He continued until Spock was reduced to small, almost pained whimpers, interspersed with gasps as teeth grazed him, sending jolts of pain and pleasure coursing through his already primed nerves. He looked up at Spock, his eyes alight with burning determination.  
  
Kirk took Spock’s arms, brushing down them with two fingers on each hand until they met Spock’s fingers, pulling them into his hair and guiding him to grip, tightly. Spock grasped at the golden strands, looking down at him and meeting his fierce gaze, which only sent his arousal higher. Kirk moved his hands from Spock’s hips, rapidly removing Spock’s belt and dragging down his trousers and undergarments. He paused, taking a moment to appreciate his lover’s cock, erect and green and covered with external lubricant that he knew from experience tasted subtly of cinnamon. He swallowed him down, bobbing his head and ignoring his gag reflex, rising his head up to suck and lick at the head teasingly as he felt Spock’s hands grip tighter, a low groan emerging from his mouth. At the sound, he pulled away entirely, and another, higher, needier moan tumbled from Spock’s mouth.  
  
“Alright there, Mr Spock?” he asked, a grin filling his expression, smug and possessive.  
  
Spock looked down, breath robbed by the sight of his Captain, on his knees and yet still utterly in control. He opened his mouth to try and speak, but he was prevented by Kirk, who immediately swallowed him back down, bobbing his head and licking and sucking at the head. Spock found guttural, desperate sounds being drawn from him, completely out of his control, and when Kirk stopped once more he felt himself whimper, his hips jerking forwards but shoved back against the wall until he was forced to submit to the lack of stimulation. He relaxed against the wall, his head tilted down slightly to watch his Kirk from half-lidded eyes.  
  
“Well, Mr. Spock?”

“I believe you are right next to something that tells you exactly how alright I am, Sir.” Spock responded, his voice breathy and desperate.  
  
“I’m not sure if I know that you want me, Commander. Perhaps you found that Starfleet Jim more competent?” Kirk questioned, his eyes harsh with jealousy, despite his knowledge that his Spock would always choose him.

“No, Sir. I want you.” Spock’s hands latched tightly onto Kirk’s hair, the jealousy and violence in his lover’s eyes serving as an aphrodisiac, making his words urgent and wanting. He again tried to push his hips forwards, and was again denied.  
  
“Say it again.”  
  
“I want you, Sir.” Spock moaned the words, helplessly turned on by the situation.  
  
“Again!” Kirk demanded, licking his lips, watching Spock’s desperation with a primal joy, feeling like a predator toying with his prey, dragging confession from his lover’s rigid control.

“Please, Sir, I need you, I want you!” Spock’s voice was wanton, begging, unrestrained. Only his Kirk could do this; bring him to such heights with his teasing alone. His very existence was burning red with desire, white hot pleasure coursing through him as Kirk finally took him back in his mouth. Spock lost track of the sounds he was making as Kirk expertly licked and sucked his cock.

 

When Kirk moved his hands into the meld position, they melded easily, their minds intimately familiar with each other, feeding of their arousal and reaffirming their desire for each other, the directed destruction of Kirk and the controlled precision of Spock merging effortlessly into each other. They could feel the other’s pleasure; Spock’s in being broken down, and Kirk’s in tearing apart his lover’s control. Spock came with a harsh cry, moaning and whimpering as Kirk swallowed it all, licking at the sensitive head as they both drank in the overstimulation.

Kirk rose to his feet, and they moved together easily, Spock letting himself be dragged forwards and shoved onto the bed. Spock removed his boots and socks, feeling that it would be logical to complete the process of divesting his clothes. He had barely finished when Kirk returned and shoved him back down with a sound that was almost a growl. He luxuriated in the difference, how Kirk was fully clothed and yet Spock was naked, utterly vulnerable as Kirk moved forwards and parted his legs willingly, as Kirk let his eyes wander his lover’s body in frank, open appreciation. He ran one hand down his lover’s chest, pausing to tease at his nipples while his other hand dextrously opened a bottle of lube, coating his fingers in preparation.  
  
Spock heard the sound of the lid opening, and moaned – it was pavolvian almost, how that sound was associated with intense and deep pleasure.  
  
“Are you –“ Kirk asked, both out loud and in the meld.  
  
“Yes, please, Sir!” Spock panted out the words desperately, shoving a resounding tangle of _yes_ through the meld that made Kirk pause to catch his breath.  
  
“Well, in that case, I suppose…” he said, his playful words undermined slightly by the hitch in his breath that revealed just how strongly he was also affected.  
  
Kirk slowly, gently pushed a finger into Spock’s ass, pressing in until he found the ridges that indicated the prostate, and he stroked across it with the pad of his finger. He was rewarded by Spock’s surging pleasure, and a cry that was both pleasure and pain. He couldn’t help his victorious, possessive grin as he moved his finger, inserting another one and opening him up slowly, gently. His movements were careful, sharply at odds with the graphic, bruising images and thoughts he sent through the meld, making Spock squirm and moan, clenching around his fingers.  
  
“You’re mine, aren’t you, Spock? My Vulcan, all your controls broken apart for me, needing me, wanting me so desperately. You’re gorgeous like this, all mine and making me want to take you, make it so nobody else can have you. Make you out of your mind with pleasure until you’ll never go to anyone else. Ruin you for other people, until you can only ever come to me for pleasure ever again.”  
  
Spock moaned, the words and sensations all on just the right side of too much. He felt the fingers retreat, and let out a needy moan, completely unashamed and trapped in the moment, revelling in it.  
  
“Please, take me, I’m yours, you must know that, only yours-“ Spock broke off as Kirk entered him, feeling his cock brush against his prostate, his own cock already painfully erect once more. He could feel himself around his lover’s cock, feel the pleasure of his own ass as well as Kirk’s cock, and his head thrashed from side to side at the persistent and overwhelming stimulation. He could feel their pleasure building, white and static in his skull, until they both came together, their cries and pleasure intertwining.

 

They both relaxed into each other, Spock’s skin feeling overstimulated against Kirk’s uniform material, but he pressed into the sensation rather than shying from it. Their limbs and fingers tangled together, both sticky with come, they slowly extricated themselves from the meld and their shared sleepy bliss.  
  
“Welcome back, Mr. Spock.” Kirk said, with a trace of humour that would have been present also in his counterpart.  
  
“It was quite a welcome, Captain.” Spock responded, nuzzling his head in to press a kiss to Kirk’s cheek, but meeting lips instead. He pulled away and they grinned at each other, in that moment rebuilt but not yet pulling back the shields they had to wear to the outside world. “I really must remember to make you jealous more often. I hate to cause you negative emotions, but-“  
  
“Fuck yes, Spock.” Kirk interjected. “If we don’t get to repeat something similar to this in a scenario, I’ll die. This was fucking hot.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
“Come on, Spock, say it. Just the once. You know I love to hear it.”  
  
“It was…fucking…hot...” Spock dragged out the words, knowing how much Kirk loved to hear him swear. Kirk watched Spock hungrily as he spoke, moving to capture his lips in a heated kiss that had no real aim, having nowhere to go so soon after being so thoroughly sated.

They pulled apart once more, and lay together for a moment, content. Their dynamic might not be overtly loving and gentle; nor was it particularly tender. Yet, they fitted together perfectly, each of their needs met in kind by the other; all the harshness and relentless teasing was founded on a base of mutual respect, understanding, and yes, love. There was not a single universe in which it would be possible to have James Tiberius Kirk and Schn T’Gai Spock be anything else, of this they were certain. Their personalities might change, their circumstances might differ. But they would always be what the other needed. True th’y’la.

 Spock and Kirk slowly drew on their masks: Spock became once more expressionless and sharp; Kirk buried the affection that came with his sense of ownership. And if they wondered, as they prepared for another day, what had come of their interference in their counterparts’ lives, they only ever talked about it when nobody could hear them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, once again I seem to have ended up with smut. Plotty, angsty smut with some fluff, but still.
> 
> I'm very very new to writing smut, so uh, feedback is appreciated! And as ever, feeding me with comments and kudos would be lovely!
> 
> Chapter 3 will be devoted to what happens to our good old faves, normal 'verse Jim and Spock :)


	3. Mirror Unbroken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our own Captain and Commander are finally reunited; after their interactions with their Mirror counterparts, how will this affect the delicate balance of their relationship?
> 
> (Or, I probably got very cliche but I enjoyed it anyways)

Spock found himself returned to his own quarters, instantly able to sense and reconnect with the telepathic background of his own Enterprise. He noticed Jim standing by the communicator, staring at the place where he had appeared, seemingly lost in thought. But as he fully materialised, the pensive expression faded, replaced with a warm smile that made him want to draw Jim into a kiss.  
  
“Mr Spock, welcome back.” Jim moved forward and touched his Spock’s arm lightly, carefully controlling his desire to question him about mind-melds and their feelings; right now they needed to discuss the situation as Captain and First Officer, before they did so as friends.  
  
“Thank you, Captain.” Spock nodded, pulling together his control as the business-like slant to Jim’s posture indicated would be necessary. “Shall we sit and debrief?”  
  
“That would be logical.” Jim smiled again, unable to keep the fondness from his eyes despite the need for professionalism. He moved to the armchair and sat down, deliberately trying to not watch Spock’s movements. “There is little to report, on my side. Your counterpart materialised in the transporter room, and spent the majority of his stay in these quarters. He only incapacitated two guards with a nerve-pinch, and they are currently in Sickbay and scheduled to make a full recovery for Beta shift. Scotty completed the repairs remarkably swiftly.”  
  
“I also have little to report, Captain. I materialised on the bridge of the ISS Enterprise, and was immediately relegated to my rooms. I elected to meditate to pass the time until you found a solution, and rematerialized here relatively quickly for such an incident.”  
  
“Good. I’ll have both our reports on this along with Scotty’s by the end of the week, Commander.” Jim let himself look up again, seeing his Spock settled in the desk chair that his counterpart had dragged over to the chess table. He couldn’t help the light flush on his cheeks at the sight.  
  
“Of course, Sir.” Spock nodded, his eyes taking in the prepared yet untouched chess game. With professional conversation over, Jim did not show any sign of wanting to depart, so he pursued what he hoped would be a safe ground of conversation. He had no desire to disrupt their easy camaraderie, but he couldn’t help scrutinising every aspect of their interactions for evidence of what Kirk had claimed. “I take it my counterpart plays chess?”  
  
“It was a suggestion. It never got further than the set-up; would you like to play?” Jim offered, his tone far more cautious than it usually was.  
  
“I would be most satisfied by this outcome, Jim.” Spock let himself smile a little, and was rewarded by an answering grin. He was used to controlling the thrill that the response gave him; however, with the added spark of hope, and the phantom sensation of Kirk pressed against him, those identical lips pressing to his, control was simply a thin veneer. He clung to that veneer, because he could not act unless he knew his regard was returned. To disturb their current friendship would be unforgiveable.  
  
Jim tapped the top of the pawn he had decided to move, thoughtfully, though his mind was not totally on the game. His opening move was his usual one, and as Spock responded, with his usual and logical tactics, he felt something within him settle. The familiarity of Spock’s system of play felt comforting, somehow. It grounded him, let him keep to the more platonic side of relief at his Spock’s return. Jim was, however, certain that it would take a great deal of time before he could forget the associations with the desk chair. He reached forwards to remove one of Spock’s rooks that his bishop had just taken, and in his preoccupation with clearing his mind failed to realise that Spock had done the same.

Their hands collided, and Jim felt a warm jolt of sensation at the touch. He whipped his hand back instinctively, terrified that the contact would let Spock see the lingering arousal and desire in his mind. His movement upset the board, scattering the pieces with a clatter. He blushed, reaching down hastily to pick up the pieces, refusing to look at Spock, fearing his reaction, or even the lack of one.

 

Spock felt the fear slip from Jim to his mind, before the contact was gone and Jim was bending down, tidying and refusing to look at him. Concern gripped him; what had his counterpart done to make Jim so fearful? They had touched before, and Jim had seemed aware but unconcerned by his telepathy. Had it been the touch itself that instilled fear, or was it a secondary worry that his thoughts would be read? He could hardly claim that there was no need for that concern when his knowledge of the fear came from his doing exactly that.  
  
“I’m sorry, Spock.” Jim began piling the chess set back onto the table, focussed hard on distracting himself.  
  
“Jim.”  
  
“I hope none of the pieces are brok-“  
  
“Jim!” Spock leaned forwards, raising his voice to try and break his friend out of his withdrawn state.  
  
Jim looked up, startled by the urgency in Spock’s voice, and his movements stilled at the raw concern in his brown eyes.  
  
“Jim, are you alright? I apologise; I did not intend to infringe upon your boundaries.”  
  
“No, Spock, it’s my fault. I think there was some static. I’m sorry.” Jim knew immediately that Spock would not believe him. His lying skills were excellent when lives depended on it, but it seemed that they deserted him just as easily when it was only his pride on the line.  
  
“I do not wish to pry, but I am certain that it was not static.” Spock stood, taking Jim’s arm and guiding him into the armchair again. “I…” Spock paused, unsure how exactly to ask what had happened between his counterpart and his Captain. He settled for his customary bluntness, in lieu of any attempt at subtler means. “Did my counterpart harm you?”  
  
Jim instinctively rested a hand on Spock’s arm in response, meeting his eyes and feeling himself becoming lost in the concern, and berated himself for not realising that Spock might perceive the motion as his counterpart’s fault. In a way, a very different way, it was. He smiled, the expression gentle, not nearly as bright as normal, but at least genuine.  
  
“No Spock, don’t worry. Neither you nor your counterpart hurt me. It’s just an emotional thing. Very human. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Jim, you do not need to apologise for that which you cannot help.” Spock gripped Jim’s arm lightly, before retreating back to the desk chair. “Is it anything that I might be able to help you with?”  
  
“I wouldn’t want to burden you, Spock. I know how emotionality is distasteful to you; it really is fine.” Jim could taste the lie in his words. Being fine would mean that his thoughts were not constantly occupied with prying apart every interaction, every micro-expression on his friend’s face. Fine would mean that he wasn’t lost, desperately hoping that Spock’s counterpart was correct, truthful.  
  
“Let me help you. I am your friend.” Spock said, simply. He was unsure how to help, but he knew that he would do anything to ease the tension that was jarring their interactions.  
  
“Is it truly impossible to lie in a meld?” Jim asked, abruptly.  
  
“A meld?” Spock blinked, clamping down on the surge of confusion and worry that this question brought, along with the illogical jealousy at the thought of his counterpart initiating a meld with his Captain. “It is correct that in a meld, you cannot lie. It is a form of true communication; anything said in a meld is fully believed by the person speaking.”  
  
“I see.” Jim frowned, looking past Spock’s shoulder, considering all the information at his disposal.  
  
“Why do you ask this?” Spock watched Jim intently, examining his expression for any evidence of the thought processes behind his question.  
  
“What does t’hy’la mean? I assume it is a Vulcan word.”  
  
Spock’s eyes widened, understanding finally slotting into place. This was how Kirk had been so certain of his Captain’s regard for him; this was why his statement about all universes had rung with truth. They were t’hy’la. Destined to be friends, brothers-in-arms. Lovers. Spock stood, unable to be still and maintain his controls. He paced, his thoughts as restless as his body. The revelation was both surprising and perfectly natural. It was easy to see, now, how well the term described them. They were after all a perfect command team; their approaches complimented each other, occasionally bringing them to clash but never further than their relationship could stand, and ultimately each time they disagreed they came to terms and were the better for it. 

Jim’s confidence and ease of command intertwined with Spock’s technical grasp; their innate abilities combining to make the intuitive understanding that belonged to Jim sharpen with calculated knowledge, the incisive simplicity of decision that belonged to Spock tempered by Jim’s understanding of people and their motivations. He never felt as whole, as truly accepted as when he was with Jim. And now, he finally could understand why, realise that the emotions and desires that plagued him had a reason other than his unruly human half.

 

Jim stood, moving to Spock but not quite knowing whether to try and hold him back from pacing or let him be. “Spock?” Jim’s voice snapped him out of the slight daze he had fallen into. “I didn’t mean to- are you alright?”  
  
“Yes, Jim.” He managed, his voice strangely rough. “I am perfectly fine.”  
  
“You look like I hit you with a sledgehammer, Spock, that’s not fine. That word means something pretty big, doesn’t it?” Jim sounded convinced, and Spock knew he wouldn’t be able to lie about it. He didn’t even think he wanted to, despite the part of him screaming that Jim did not return his regard, that this revelation would send him away. And yet, Jim had come to him, was looking at him with concern despite his curiosity. He let himself take a moment to be silent, to pull his controls back from the brink before answering.  
  
“It is an ancient Vulcan word. It speaks of a bond, of the sort that few had the fortune to possess. It means friend, brother,” Spock paused, his dark eyes searching out Jim’s bright ones, hoping to read the reaction that would be held there. “And lover.”  
  
Jim blinked, surprise and hope filling him. His hand reached out of its own accord, though to do what, he did not know. He stilled the movement, watching Spock’s face carefully for any reaction. “Well, that sounds like quite a bond, Mr. Spock.” He felt like he was on a tightrope – one step too far towards reticence and it would mean he might cause Spock to deny the emotions held in his eyes, but too far towards action might spook him thoroughly. “Isn’t it a bit…illogical? It sounds almost like the concept of a soulmate.”  
  
“It is certainly illogical, Jim.” Spock found his hand moving forward, almost of its own volition, and he gripped Jim’s outstretched wrist loosely over the cloth of his uniform. “However, as is often the case when you are involved, despite the illogic, it is surprisingly accurate and effective.”  
  
“Where I’m involved?” Jim let his hand wrap around Spock’s wrist in turn, a well of feeling rising up in his chest and threatening to overwhelm him, his words quietened by the force of it.  
  
“Jim, I-“ Spock broke off, his eyes and expression melting into a look of pure vulnerability that felt like a stab to Jim’s heart. “You are my t’hy’la, in this and any universe. Please-please tell me that you return my regard.”  
  
“Yes.” Jim whispered, sliding his hand down Spock’s wrist, aligning his fingers so his index and middle fingers brushed down his palm. Spock’s fingers twisted towards Jim’s, and they rested against each other, feeling the heady, warm connection between them like a gentle flame. “I love you, Spock. I have loved you for a very long time.”  
  
“And I you. I apologise for not inferring that you reciprocated sooner.”  
  
“It’s fine – it seems we were both fools.” He smiled, his face, his entire being radiating a contented joy that was at once delightful and thrilling for Spock to behold. “I can’t believe we needed our evil twins, to get us to talk about this.”  
  
“It seems that, in their case at least, a lack of restraint worked in their favour.”  
  
They stood like that for a while, just feeling each other’s presence in a way they had never yet done. The simple feeling of existing in the same space, breathing the same air and brushing fingers, but with new meaning lent to every second they were together. Jim slid his fingers against Spock’s palm, and interlaced their fingers, walking backwards so that he could sit in the armchair, pulling Spock onto his lap. Spock moved with him, quiet and open and achingly trusting, letting himself be drawn into Jim’s lap, their fingers still intertwined. Jim raised his other hand to meet Spock’s, trailing a sweet Vulcan kiss up from his fingers to his inner elbow, luxuriating in the way Spock’s lips parted, how his eyes sought Jim’s and overflowed with love and pleasure.  
  
“Jim…” Spock leaned in, touching his forehead to Jim’s. His eyes slid shut as he struggled to process the overwhelming sensations, the sheer strength of the outpouring of pure love, flowing from Jim’s skin and into his mind.

Jim felt his entire being thrill at the way Spock said his name, so tender and filled with a desperate keen. He wanted to draw this out, to bury himself in the moment, and his own eyes slid shut briefly to savour it. He did not have it in him to keep to inaction for much longer, and he held on to his resolve, clinging to the fragile sense of peace enveloping him.

“I think I loved you before I even met you.” He whispered. “Does that make sense?”  
  
“We are t’hy’la.” Spock responded, simply.   
  
“What does that mean? Friend, brother, lover, I know. But, to you. What does it, what does _this_ , mean to you?” Jim felt his voice tremble, and fingers interlaced with his tightened slightly around him. He felt soft fingertips brushing his meld points, lightly.  
  
“May I show you?”  
  
Jim nodded, and Spock let his fingers rest on Jim’s temple and face, firm enough for connection and gentle enough to be almost a caress. Then Spock was in Jim’s mind, and Jim was in his. The world, Jim’s need for action, Spock’s desire to communicate, it all spread out on the canvass of their shared minds, like two galaxies swirling into each other. Spock could feel Jim’s long-held love, the longer-held desire. He could feel the care, the hopelessness of his love, the acute sense of loneliness that the certainty of unrequited love wrapped around him. And now, the joy that his feelings were returned.

Jim could feel Spock’s mind, his struggle to verbalise the weight of emotion he was experiencing, and he felt honoured that Spock would share such feeling with him so freely. He could feel the devotion, the loyalty that he had always known was there, but it was accompanied by such respect and admiration that it floored him. Seeing himself through Spock’s eyes felt like looking at an entirely different man than the one he saw in the mirror. And he knew, as easily as if it were his own mind, that Spock also felt that way. Jim could see his actions, his achievements, as seen uncluttered by his insecurities and lack of self-esteem, and Spock his without the perfectionism that plagued him. They were each laid out bare, flaws and strengths alike, and they each loved the other just the same.

The meld faded, and Jim found that his face was wet with tears. Spock brushed them away with his thumb, though he knew that the tears were not precisely those of sadness; rather a deep, emotional sense of catharsis. He pressed a kiss to Jim’s cheek, licking away some of the salt, and Jim gave a startled laugh, looking up at him with a gentle grin. Spock gave in to the gravity pulling him in, pressing another kiss to Jim’s smiling lips. He pulled back, and Jim followed him, his free hand moving to lightly trace Spock’s pointed ear, moving his other against Spock’s fingers and palm. He shivered slightly, pleasure lapping at the shores of his mind. Jim moved in to kiss him again, sliding his hand around the back of Spock’s neck to pull him down into it, and Spock leaned in smoothly, letting himself be guided. Jim’s lips moved against his own, tongue flicking out to trace his bottom lip, tease the seam of their kiss.

 

The warm sensation made Spock moan, his lips parting, and Jim licked into his mouth. Spock responded in kind, sliding further into Jim’s arms and settling so his head was a little lower than Jim’s. He trailed his tongue across Jim’s lower lip, and the faint gasp it elicited felt like a pull at the base of his stomach. He wanted to feel it again. Jim’s teeth gently scraped across his own lower lip, and the feeling tugged at his stomach again. The sensation made him feel almost lightheaded, even something akin to drunkenness. His body arced into Jim’s and he opened his mouth to moan again. Jim pulled away, and Spock tried to follow him, but was restricted by Jim’s arms around him.   
  
“You liked that, huh?” Jim’s voice was dark, laced with lust and innuendo that he had seen before, but never felt directed at him.   
  
“You know that I did.” Spock answered, his voice strange in his throat. “As did you.”  
  
“Indeed.” Jim’s lips quirked into a smile.  
  
“Then why did you cease?” Spock’s voice sounded frustrated, and it made Jim smile even more broadly, his expression fond.  
  
“I’m sorry to stop. But I feel like this is heading in a particular direction, and I want to establish some things first.”  
  
“Then please, proceed.” Spock responded, as impatient as Jim had ever seen him be.  
  
“You like my teeth on you?” Jim trailed a searing Vulcan kiss up Spock’s neck, and his eyes fluttered shut as he nodded. “You like a little pain, to be controlled, taken, owned.”   
  
“Yes…” Spock whispered, his ears and cheeks flushing green. Jim traced the shell of Spock’s ear with his finger.  
  
“I have no problem with that. In fact, I actively desire it. But we need to have safe-words, if we’re going to do this.”  
  
“I trust you.” Spock said, immediately.  
  
“It’s not about trust,” Jim said, sounding a little exasperated, but mostly amused. “I’m not a touch-telepath. I can’t just touch your skin and know your emotional state. I need words for that, active communication. The usual system would be traffic lights – red for stop, yellow for pausing and adjusting the situation, and green for a-ok.”  
  
“This is logical.” Spock conceded, nodding. “I am, then, green, Jim.”  
  
“Good.” Jim unwound himself from Spock, gently pushing the other man off his lap.  
  
“Jim?” Spock slid off his lap and, rather than standing, thudded softly to the floor, his face a blur of confusion and mild disorientation.  
  
Jim stood, taking Spock’s hands and smiling at the adorably, enticingly bewildered Vulcan. He pulled him to his feet, and then laced one hand with Spock’s, stroking his fingers in a soothing kiss. Spock’s eyes flickered shut, losing himself in the warmth that flared to life at their contact. Jim revelled in the ability to so thoroughly distract him; the power and pleasure, love and care, was intoxicating. Gently, he used his other hand to card through Spock’s hair, and he hummed softly, pressing into the hand. Jim didn’t think he would ever get enough of Spock like this. He was so open, so willingly malleable, and it caught his heart and arousal as one.

 

Jim wrapped the short hair around his fingers and tugged gently, experimentally. Spock’s eyes flew open as he gasped, his pupils dilating with the sensation. Not pain, not quite. But it was shading to it, and his body and mind responded to the controlling touch with a flare of devotion and fire in his core. Jim tugged again, more harshly, and the slight pain sent a wave of tingling desire over Spock’s skin. He wanted- he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted. An overwhelming, shapeless, formless sense of urgent need swept over him, and he whined. His free hand rose to stroke down Jim’s shoulder-blades, distractedly running across the texture of cloth, then moved to Jim’s face, then his arm, struggling against his grip to press himself closer, until their bodies were flush, his head tipped back by the light grip Jim maintained on his hair.

Spock felt himself be pulled in, down, and sank into this kiss, the firm mouth against his own an aching relief. It was too sweet, too bright in his mind, and he desperately craved more, _more_ , though he did not know how to get it beyond wanting to touch and be touched in return. His hand fisted in Jim’s uniform shirt, and he felt rather than saw his smirk. Then Jim was pulling away again, and he almost didn’t let him. But Jim levelled his gaze at Spock, and he instantly came to understand just what the phrase ‘bedroom eyes’ meant. Jim led him by the hand to the bed, spinning them so that Spock had his back to the bed, and then let go, shoving Spock’s chest. He let himself fall, sprawling against the sheets, propping himself on his elbows to look up at Jim. His Captain was standing still, looking down at him with an intensity that made Spock feel naked despite their clothing. Light caught his golden hair, a halo that lit him up and made him seem briefly like an angel; an angel with the smile of the devil curling his lips, his tongue licking them sinfully.

 

Jim slowly pulled off his uniform shirt, exposing gradually more and more skin, until the shirt was off. Spock’s eyes drank in the sight greedily, equal parts of him wanting to touch and to observe. He wanted to catalogue every inch of the newly revealed skin, learn how to bring him pleasure and treasure the ability to do so. His breath hitched as Jim slid off his trousers and toed off his boots and socks, leaving only his underwear. And then Spock’s dilemma of watching or touching was solved, as Jim crawled up the bed and straddled his hips, leaning down to press a kiss to Spock’s lips.

Spock’s hands flew up to touch him, tracing and mapping the skin and muscles above him. His hands and lips and hips felt like they were almost burning with the contact, and if he hadn’t been consumed by desire to remember every single second of this, he would have been utterly lost to the sea of pleasure and intermingled victory. In their exploration, his hands found several points of interest.

There was a small dip near the base of Jim’s spine that made his hips jerk forward slightly, creating a delightful friction. Another by his shoulder blades that made Jim melt, sometimes causing a light bite to his lips and other times moving to press a kiss to Spock’s jawline. The spot by his sternum made Jim’s body arc first away and then press in again for more. When his fingers brushed past Jim’s areolae, he gasped, and when he repeated the action, he let out a shuddering, incendiary moan and pulled away from Spock’s mouth entirely.

Jim grabbed Spock’s wrists, and Spock looked up at him, raising one eyebrow at the response.

“You’re _experimenting_ with my reactions, aren’t you?” Jim did not sound annoyed, merely amused, teasing almost.  
  
“Your reactions were favourable, and yet you have prevented me from continuing. This seems most illogical.” Spock twisted his wrists between them so he could brush Jim’s nipple again, and Jim sucked in a sharp breath.  
  
“You can be kind of a brat, can’t you.” Jim was grinning, his eyes glittering with amusement, fondness and arousal.

“I wish to bring you pleasure.” His words were simple, but they were perfectly true. “What is the point of this interlude?”  
  
“The point, Mr. Spock, is that if you have the coherence to experiment,” Jim broke off to slam Spock’s wrists down, trapping them on either side of his head and sending raw arousal surging through him. “ _I’m not doing my job right._ ”.

 

Jim moved Spock’s head to one side by pressing kisses to the side of his jawline, trailing his tongue in a hot line down to his neck and then sucking hard. Spock cried out, hands clenching briefly into useless fists, though he didn’t try to break the other man’s grip on them. Jim’s lips whispered across his neck, finding another spot, then scraped his teeth down in a line until he reached the dip by his collarbone. Spock let his head fall completely to the side, too trapped in the moment by the sudden pleasure of a sharp bite to his collarbone to register just how familiar his current position was. Licks and bites and kisses peppered his neck and upper body with sensation. He felt like his mind had come unmoored from its usual place of calculation and detachment, swept up entirely in the soft trace of lips and harsh bite of pain against him.

Trapped as he was, in Jim’s hands and in pleasure, he did not notice that his shirt was being pushed up until the sudden flick of a tongue against his nipple made him cry out in surprise. His body jolted involuntarily, and then relaxed into the new stimulation, swirling out into overwhelming pleasure. He heard a high-pitched keening sound, and distantly realised that it was coming from him. Jim laughed, the air moving over the wet bud and skittering pleasure through him.  
  
“How are you doing there?” Jim asked, kissing between his pectorals before rising up to look at Spock’s face. His voice was entirely too in control, though Spock noticed a restrained wildness about him that had not been there before.  
  
“Green. Please, Jim, continue!” Spock couldn’t help the request, his body alight with the sensations and his mind on a seemingly constant loop of desire and submission.  
  
“Hm. I’m not sure I’m convinced you want this.” Jim placed a hand on Spock’s chest, gently. “ _Beg for it_.” He moved the hand to tease at Spock’s areolae, and he let out a sharp cry, his breath coming in pants that ended in tiny moans. The sound sent arousal rushing through Jim, the need and abandon of the man under him stoking his own. Jim rolled his hips, and the friction between them made him close his eyes, wanting briefly to give up control and just hump himself on Spock’s erection. The sensation would be dulled through Spock’s uniform, but to Jim it would be through the thin layer of his underwear, and he was sure he could come just from this, from having this amazing man at his mercy. But he had not become a star-ship Captain by constantly submitting to his immediate wants. He let himself grind down once more, to drink in the wanton moan that tore itself from Spock’s lips, and then stilled.

“Jim!” Spock half-shouted at the loss of the sensation, dulled as it had been. “Jim, please, I need you, I-“ He bit his lip, bucking up his hips, but Jim moved with him, keeping the contact light. “ _Please_ , I need you to touch me, I need you to- please!” Spock let the words flow from him, no longer caring about coherency, desperate to get back to the world of dark pleasure that had consumed him.

“What do you need, Spock?” Jim’s thumb stroked along Spock’s wrist gently, his other hand moving to push the strands of now-messy hair out of Spock’s face. 

“I don’t-“ Spock scrabbled for thoughts, scattered beyond how he thought possible. “Green. Green, I need you to touch me, to take me, oh god, Jim, you undo me!”  
  
“It’s alright,” Jim murmured soothingly, pressing a chaste kiss to Spock’s lips. “I’ll give you what you need.” In direct opposition to his words, he moved from his position over Spock, releasing him. Spock lurched up, sitting on the bed and reaching for Jim with a distressed sound.   
  
“Don’t go!”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere, ashayam.” He said, grateful that he had looked up Vulcan endearments. The words seemed to calm his lover. “We just need to get your clothes off.”  
  
Spock hummed in approval at that, pulling his shirt off and throwing it aside, uncharacteristically careless, as Jim pulled off his boots. As soon as the boots were off, Spock lifted his hips and dragged off his trousers and underwear in one. His flushed, erect green cock jutted up as it was released, and Spock quickly cast the trousers and his socks aside. He reached out and snagged Jim’s wrist, using his Vulcan strength to tug him back onto the bed. Jim let out a startled cry that erupted into laughter, their limbs tangled together, and he kissed Spock’s cheek affectionately.  
  
“You really can be a brat!” Jim nibbled at Spock’s ear, and he moaned, instinctively tilting his head further back and towards Jim.  
  
“Then it would be logical to - cease making me impa – impatient-“ Spock forced the words out past the delicious sensation of their touching, finally skin against skin, the warm, slight sting of teeth pulling out further reaches of pleasure.  
  
“Oh, but why would I? You look so gorgeous when you need me.” Jim interlaced their fingers, moving so that he could press Spock’s hands down onto the mattress on either side of his head, trapping him there.  
  
“I always need you. Always have.” Spock whispered, the words hard to express but spilling from him easily in any case. He thought he could physically feel the devotion, the love he felt, overflowing at last from his body and mind. He was no longer sure what state his mental controls were in, but he distantly realised that it was possible that his emotions were projecting. He felt soft, terribly gentle lips against his, and he recognised the soaking sunshine of Jim’s mind bleeding through their contact. Joy, love, laughter, and pure need, rising to meet and intermingle with his own.

Perhaps Spock was aroused simply by dominance, but this was far more than a mere exchange of sexual pleasure. It spanned the bounds of their entire relationship, founded on mutual attraction and desire, yet also on deep care and respect. Physically, Jim was the one holding Spock down, and Spock giving up control; both were lost to each other in equal depth, neither ever being considered more or less than the other for their seeming roles. The exchange was mutual, the power dynamics a play that stoked them higher and burned them brighter but never destructive or uneven. As Jim wrested pleasure from Spock, he took the reactions and gave his self over to him; as Spock gave him his control and took his pleasure. A perfect balance of giving and taking, pushing them further into a blinding, consuming sensation of rightness, that their coming together had been the only possible conclusion to their existences.  
  
The movement of their hips against each other’s became urgent, yet secondary to the glowing mental connection that they couldn’t help but share. The feedback loop grew, flashing with bolts of ecstasy as Jim released one of Spock’s hands, taking their cocks between their stomachs and stroking. Then they were tipping over the edge, spilling out between each other, sensitive skin barely registering the wetness as they rode out the orgasm, in deep, sobbing cries.

 

In the aftershocks, Jim rested his forehead on Spock’s shoulder, pressing a kiss that was mostly tongue to his lips on the way down. Gradually their breathing steadied, and Jim rolled, wrapping his free arm and one leg around Spock’s long body, so they were lying next to each other. He rested his hand, still sticky with their come, against the small of Spock’s back, nuzzling in to kiss and bite gently at his lips. Spock moved forward into the sensation, his eyes blinking sleepily, the haze of their passion still clouding his higher functions.

“I love you, Spock.” Jim murmured, a smile curving his lips as he continued to brush light, lazy kisses to his face and lips.  
  
“And I you, t’hy’la.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! I know this took SO LONG to finally get finished! I can only beg that I started a new job, and am spiralling so rapidly into having a ridiculous number of WIPs that it's been a real struggle to ensure that anything other than shorter oneshots are reliably finished in a timely manner!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoy!!
> 
> As ever, comments and kudos truly feed my dark and pining soul!! <3


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